


Of Love and Madness

by RosesToPaint



Series: Family [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Family, Love, Loveless Marriage, Madness, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, Obsession, Other, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesToPaint/pseuds/RosesToPaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is the difference between love and obsession? To Anton Grekov it's all the same. Part II of a series of snippets about a family that's not quite ... normal.<br/>Introduction: Anton Grekov</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Love and Madness

No matter how much he hated his brother, the day they met Alexandra would forever unite them in a way that nothing else ever could. Both of their lives changed that day, if for different reasons, and not the way everyone thought they did.

 

Alexandra had waltzed into his esteemed mother’s garden with a boldness that still made his blood boil. Disrespectful, confident and with a power so all-encompassing there was nothing he could do to resist.

His sister had shrieked and Grandmother Irina had laughed and the once weakened main family had trailed in the stupid girl’s wake half fearful, half excited.

She had forced them both to their knees, their bodies obeying before their minds could comprehend, and their honorable fight between brothers had been unceremoniously squashed under dainty female feet.

He had fumed and cursed, as soon as his body had been his own again, but Roland had never properly belonged to himself again.

At first he had thought his older brother had thought of another underhanded way to worm himself into a position of power, as the man’s eyes followed Alexandra wherever she went.

But the woman never looked back at him and he never said a word. Roland was no idiot, he knew she looked down on him, would never consider sharing his bed, neither as his wife nor otherwise, and so he remained the only one aware of his brother’s ardor.

Or so it seemed.

Behind Alexandra’s overwhelming presence and her loud commanding voice hid another attentive eye, belonging to her sister. Oksana was her name and she could not have been more different from her beloved older sister.

Quiet, watchful and with a smile she constantly emitted an aura of harmony that ensnared him just as pathetically as his useless brother. Her hair was dark like expensive chocolate, her fingers long and delicate when she prepared the tea.  
But no matter how far out of his reach she felt, Oksana was indeed not. He did not dare initiate an official courtship, far too aware of Alexandra’s distrustful eyes. But the girl was not stupid; his constant presence and his gifts, delivered to her room by faithful servants, were as obvious as any official proposal.

Oksana, while friendly and polite in her refusal, never once accepted his gifts. Her loyalty to Alexandra forbade her, she had said. Not before her sister was married and her succession assured; she would not dare for her own children to take what was rightfully her sister’s. Luck, or so he thought, came in the form of his brother’s stupidity. Half mad with unrequited obsession he had taken several lovers from lesser families over the years.  
Dear Sophie just so happened to be good friends with Alexandra and even better friends with a few extraordinarily nasty, poisonous plants. Maybe she had thought once her rival was out of the way, Roland would marry her. Needless to say, he did not.

He himself had never hesitated to run to console the grieving Oksana, ready to propose the second it was socially acceptable. His beloved grandmother Irina of all people stopped him.

“I will not have any more fighting among my family, now that we are even fewer. Roland as the oldest will receive the title and Oksana’s hand. We must strengthen our blood, too many of us have died.”

He wanted to kill Roland. He very nearly did. Oksana avoided him the week before the wedding, as well as after. It was not a happy marriage. Oksana still quietly mourning her sister and the life she could have had, Roland resentful she that she was not her sister.

Oksana only bore a single son. That very same day the servants carried her belongings from the master bedroom towards the farthest corner of the east wing and the spouses never spoke to one another again.

He eventually married. Sylvia was quiet, watchful and always smiling. Her hair was dark like expensive chocolate, her fingers long and delicate when she prepared the tea.

He hated her and he hated their children.

And when years later, Roland called him to his death bed, apologizing as his final breaths rattled in his chest, nobody had to know about how he pressed his hand firmly against his brother’s chest, forcing out the air just a little bit quicker.

The secret would go to the grave with him.

 


End file.
